


Evening In

by Dbaw3



Series: Focal Point [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Multi, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stiles may be a bit of a masochist, consent is king, stiles is pack bitch, stilinskicest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 06:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17116193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dbaw3/pseuds/Dbaw3
Summary: John's had a long day, and all he wants is a quiet night in. Stiles just wants to help.





	Evening In

John sighed in exhaustion as he pulled the patrol car into his driveway. It had been a long week: flu had been sweeping through the station, so those who were sick got to pull double and sometimes triple shifts. Even with nothing supernatural going on, he was still ready to just sit in front of his TV for a few hours, not moving, and maybe sleep for a week.

He was glad to see Stiles’ Jeep in the driveway, but none of the other Pack vehicles there. He loved all of them, but really, he’d like to have a quiet evening in with just Stiles. He was contemplating asking Stiles for a nice, leisurely blow job while he watched the sport highlights of the day as he let himself into the house. Something low-level which would require no work from himself. 

John couldn’t help sighing and stopped in the doorway to the livingroom. It was a sight he’d normally enjoy coming home to: Stiles, flat on his back and naked on the couch, head thrown back over the arm, and Scott standing nearly straddling his head, his cock fully embedded in Stiles’ throat. Today, though, he just wanted a quiet evening in, just him and Stiles.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Scott said, thrusting fully into his best friend’s mouth, and stopping with his balls resting over Stiles’ eyes. “You’re so good at this. Can’t believe you can take me this far.” He had a hand on Stiles’ throat, feeling his length through Stiles’ neck.

Stiles, meanwhile, hummed and only gagged a little, and made no move to stop Scott or try to get away. A part of John was pleased to see this: it’d taken a lot of coaching from Derek and Stiles and John to convince Scott to let loose with his best friend, to convince him that he should take what he wanted from Stiles, just like the rest of the Pack. He had more right than anyone, actually, since he was the Alpha. He’d taken more convincing, John thought, that he wouldn’t hurt Stiles if he did so, but he’d come a long way recently, John was pleased to see. 

“Hey, Sheriff,” Scott said when he noticed John sitting down in his chair with a sigh. He started to pull his dick out of Stiles’ throat, but thrust back in. “Have a good shift?” he asked pleasantly, even as he face fucked John’s son. 

“Couple of shifts,” John mumbled, even as he felt his dick twitch as Scott continued to long-dick Stiles. This really was one of his favorite things about Stiles being Pack Bitch, even months later: watching the various Pack members casually using his son, right in front of him, even Scott. He wondered if it actually wasn’t hotter when it was Scott, a kid he’d known most of his life.

Scott picked up the pace of his thrusts. “I’ll be done in a minute and out of your hair,” Scott told him pleasantly, thrusting harder as well as faster.

The not-quite-gagging sounds coming from Stiles mixed with what John recognized as his “nummy” noise, which were usually reserved for curly fries, but which John had come to recognize recently as one he also made when he had a cock in his mouth. No doubt about it, Stiles was a dick slut, seeming to love the taste and feel of any dick (at least ones belonging to the Pack). John’s dick started to firm up as he watched, rubbing himself through his pants feeling too tired to even take himself out for now, but loving to watch Scotty use Stiles so freely right in front of him.

“Fuck, Stiles,” Scott panted, even as he leaned over to get a better angle into Stiles’ throat, his thrusts coming even faster. “I’m going to cum!”

Stiles tapped on Scott’s leg, even as he swallowed along Scott’s length starting to moan. John and the rest of the Pack knew this was the signal that Stiles wanted to taste what he was about to be given, but as always, it was at his fucker’s discretion to decide. John noticed that even as Scott continued to fully fuck himself into Stiles’ throat, each thrust ending with the bulge at the base of Scott’s dick banging into Stiles’ lips. (Scott, as Alpha, was the only one of the Pack with a knot, John had learned. Stiles was still learning to accommodate it, and Scott was still learning to make him take it.)

With a near howl, Scott started to cum. He held himself fully sheathed in Stiles’ throat for several seconds, then pulled out enough that the head of his dick would be just at the entrance of Stiles’ throat as Stiles gulped down his alpha’s cum. 

John was mostly hard as Scott pulled his spent dick out of Stiles’ mouth, letting his best friend finally breathe freely. Stiles coughed and gasped, but continued to lick out at Scott’s dick, even as the Alpha rubbed his softening cock over Stiles’ face with a small, affectionate smile.

“Thanks, man,” Scott said as he stepped back and pulling his pants up as he set himself to rights. When he went over to pick up his backpack, he turned back to the still panting Stiles and said, “Hey, can I get your chem notes tomorrow morning?”

Stiles gave a wave of acknowledgment. Scott turned to smile at John, the same smile John had seen on his face since he was a boy. “Thanks for letting me finish up, Sheriff. He should be all yours the rest of the night,” he said, and gave a farewell wave before leaving.

John looked at the very pretty site of a flushed and panting Stiles, who seemed to finally be recovering his breath. John was trying to build up the energy to go get something to eat, or possibly just get himself to bed when Stiles turned his head and smiled at John. “Hey, Dad,” he said, his voice a little rough from the throat fucking he’d just received.

“Hello, son,” John said, and started to get up.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Stiles said, jumping up with more energy than someone who had just been having sex should be capable of. Certainly more than John wanted to think about. “Stay right there. I’ve got dinner ready for you, and I’ll bring it out.”

“Thanks, kid,” John said gratefully, and enjoyed the view of his son’s naked ass wiggling as he walked into the kitchen to bring back his dinner. He knew Stiles knew he was walking when he put a bit more bounce in his step and winked at him over his shoulder.

Stiles was back with a warm plate–baked chicken with broccoli and a small salad on a separate plate–and John couldn’t even object to the healthiness of it when it meant he wasn’t going to have to move to eat it. Stiles set the plates down on a TV tray that had been set up next to John’s chair when he came in, then reached for the remote to turn on the sports highlight show John watched sometimes, volume turned down low.

John was about to laugh about being coddled, then Stiles dropped to his knees in front of John and reached for his belt.

“Son, I don’t think,” he started, but Stiles stopped him with a stern look, even as he opened his pants and pulled out his semi-hard cock and balls from his uniform pants.

“Just sit back and relax, Dad. And be sure you eat that salad first,” he said sternly before lowering his head to his work.

John watched and was surprised, because where he expected Stiles to stat sucking him to hardness right away, Stiles instead mouthed gently down his length, just leaving light kisses, until he reached John’s balls. He took first one into his mouth, then the other, and started to lick lightly at them, mouthing them patiently.

It was surprisingly non-sexual–almost–but instead, very relaxing, and John settled back with a sigh, and reached for his fork and the salad.

John watched TV and slowly ate his dinner as Stiles continued to gently mouthed at his balls, as if just trying to keep them warm for John. John appreciated it, and even as the tension ebbed away, he also felt somewhat revived by the warm food his son had given him.

Plates finished and set aside, John turned off the TV and looked down at his son between his legs. Stiles hadn’t left his groin once, and somewhere along the way, John realized he’d placed the hand he’d been not using to eat on Stiles’ head, petting him as if he were an affectionate cat, Stiles completing the illusion with the occasional small whimper and purr here and there. (Stiles knew how much John liked the noises he made during sex, so tended to play them up when either they were fucking or if John was around and someone else was fucking him.)

“You’re so good to me, baby,” John said affectionately, running his hand through Stiles’ hair.John’s cock, lying across Stiles’ face as he looked up at his father, had stayed semi-hard as Stiles’ treatment of his balls had remained comforting and just on the edge of sexual. Now, Stiles pulled off his balls and rubbed his face against John’s cock, mouthing it again with a smile, and his eyes never leaving his father’s.

“Anything for my daddy,” he said in his best sex kitten voice.

John felt and saw his dick give a twitch against Stiles’ face. He didn’t quite feel up to giving Stiles the pounding he normally liked to deliver, but he thought he’d be up for a little something. And Stiles was obviously ready for something.

Stiles confirmed this by gently moving the tray to the side, then climbing up to straddle John’s lap. John let his hands roam over all that wonderfully pale skin, reveling in the sexiness of Stiles being naked and eager in his lap while John remained almost fully clothed.

“I don’t know that I can do much for you tonight, sweetheart,” John warned him, even as he rubbed Stiles’ ass affectionately.

Stiles pouted, but seemed to come up with an idea, as he intensified the pout. “That’s okay, Daddy,” Stiles said with a sigh. “My hole’s really sore right now.”

John knew a game when it was rubbing itself against his cock, so he asked, “And which hole is that, baby?” and ran his fingers just on the cleft of Stiles’ ass.

Stiles shuddered, and said in that same kittenish voice, “My pussy, Daddy.”

And, fuck, John loved it when Stiles called his ass a pussy, and Stiles knew it. And John definitely knew what game they were playing now. He worked a finger between Stiles’ cheeks and rubbed it against his hole. “You want to show Daddy where your pussy hurts?” he asked.

Stiles nodded and rearranged himself so he was now lying across John’s lap. (It was amazing to John sometimes how much more graceful Stiles was these days. He’d blame it on all the werewolf cum if it didn’t sound so ridiculous even in his own head.) John rubbed his hand up and down Stiles’ thigh, right below his ass cheeks.

“Show me where it hurts, honey,” John said. “Show me your pussy.”

Stiles reached back and pulled open his cheeks for John to get a good view of his hole. It did look slightly red, as did the skin around it, which wasn’t unusual. But it was the same furled knot of muscle as always, looking as tight and unopened as the first time he’d pushed his dick through it. With that thought, John’s dick was well on its way to fully hardening.

“It does look red, baby,” John said sympathetically, He wet his own finger briefly, then started rubbing it against his hole, not penetrating it yet, but letting his finger catch now and then against it. “Why don’t you tell Daddy what you’ve been doing today to get it all red.”

“Well,” Stiles started, wiggling his ass up to catch John’s finger, “there was you, Daddy.”

“I know what I did,” John snorted, and rewarded Stiles for the memory by shoving his finger into his son’s pussy up to the first knuckle. As usual, he was moist with his own lube, but John noticed there didn’t seem much else inside him, certainly not the number of loads he suspected Stiles had taken today.

Stiles apparently had thought he’d been working too much this morning, so rather than waking him with a blowjob, as usual, he’d slipped out of bed to let him sleep. Fortunately, John had woken up before he was too late, and rushed through his shower before coming downstairs to see Stiles putting breakfast on the table. 

He’d had just enough time to bend Stiles over the kitchen counter and fuck him roughly before coming quickly and running out the door with an apple in his hand.

“Bad boys don’t get to come,” John had said when Stiles whined he’d not gotten to come with him.

Stiles now pouted at him over his shoulder. “You were so mean this morning, Daddy.”

John stroked his finger in deeper, just to hear Stiles gasp. “I’m being pretty nice to this pussy now, aren’t I?”

“Mmmhmm,” Stiles said, his eyes closing briefly.

“And after I left?” John prompted, as he added a second finger to Stiles’ ass.

“Well,” Stiles said, starting to lose his “sex kitten” voice, even as his breathing grew harder, “Jackson came by for a ‘pit stop’ on his morning jog.”

John knew that usually meant a piss and a fuck, which Stiles always wrinkled his nose at. Not because he didn’t appreciate both, but Stiles didn’t like how sweaty Jackson always was, since their house was on Jackson’s way home. 

“I don’t think Jackson and I were the only ones in here today,” John said, and hooked his fingers to catch on Stiles’ rim, now glistening with wet.

“No, Daddy,” Stiles whimpered, and grabbed at the arm nearest him for balance. “Then Boyd came by. But he was nice.”

John hummed. He knew Boyd was usually the gentlest with Stiles, even more so than John tended to be, but he still had quite a large cock that stretched Stiles nicely. “Is that all?” John asked, adding a third finger by now. 

Stiles hummed then said, “No, Daddy. Then Derek came by to ask me about that research I’ve been working on, and I told him my pussy was sore and how mean you had been to it, so he was really nice to me.” The last was said with a cat-that-ate-the-cream smile.

John knew, though, it was Derek who ate the cream, though, since Derek demonstrably loved to eat Stiles out after he;d been used by the others. He’d still never seen Derek fuck Stiles–or heard Stiles mention anything about it–but John got the idea that Derek would spend hours feasting on Stiles’ pussy if he was allowed to. Which explained the other redness on Stiles’ ass: beard burn.

“You did have a busy day, didn’t you?” John said with fake sympathy, his own breathing having picked up, even as he looked down and wondered if he could fit his fourth finger in there, too.

Stiles panted harder, pushing back on his father’s fingers. “That’s not all, Daddy,” Stiles said. “Then Peter came over.”

John froze. “And what did Peter do, baby?” he said cautiously. If Stiles was bringing it up now, and still calling him Daddy, nothing bad could have happened, but John still didn’t like to let Peter be alone with Stiles without at least someone else being around. 

“It’s okay, Daddy, Derek was still here,” Stiles assured him, and squeezed his fingers on his father’s fingers to get them moving again. John relaxed slightly and complied. “But he was really mean to my pussy. More than you or Jackson,” he continued, but sighed in contentment, too.

“And you like when Peter’s mean to your pussy, don’t you?” John said, twisting his hand so that Stiles would whimper, but that’s all the answer John got to his question. It was okay, John already knew the answer. It was the reason Peter was even allowed to use Stiles, aside from the hope that it would channel his own aggression–and need to manipulate the others–more safely: Stiles may not trust Peter, he may not like him, but he loved being fucked by him. And the nastier Peter got, the more Stiles seemed to like it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

John pulled his fingers abruptly out of Stiles and pushed his son off his lap and his neglected, now fully hard erection.

“Daddy!” Stiles shouted, looking up at him from the floor.

“I think it’s time my kitten took care of Daddy,” John said, stroking his own cock. “You’ll have to do all the work,” he warned Stiles as his son eagerly climbed back into his lap, “I’m still pretty tired.”

“Of course, Daddy,” Stiles said, still teasing him by letting John’s cock slide between his ass cheeks, but not into his hole.

“You sure your pussy’s not too sore?” John asked, knowing the answer to that question, as well.

“Never for you, Daddy,” Stiles said, as if offended at the idea.

“Good,” John said, before grabbing at his son’s waist and slamming him fully onto his cock.

Stiles shouted in surprise, but true to his word, he began to sink himself up and down almost immediately. 

John knew he wouldn’t last long, not after the day he had and teasing Stiles for so long while he told him about his day, but he couldn’t help watching his son, feeling almost a kind of awe that he had everything he ever dreamed of bouncing there in his lap.

Before he even realized it, he started talking.

“Fuck, you’re such a slut, aren’t you?” he muttered, letting his hands roam all over Stiles’ body as he moved up and down John’s length. “I bet they weren’t the only ones who fucked you today. I assume Isaac stopped by to use his favorite toilet, too.”

Stiles opened his eyes, even as he whimpered. “Yes, Daddy, but you know Isaac, he’ll only use my mouth.”

“I know, baby,” John said, and raised his right hand to put his fingers–the ones which had lately been up Stiles’ ass–into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles sucked them in eagerly. “And who can blame him. Prettiest urinal in town,” John said, and Stiles moaned.

John moaned, too, as he felt Stiles squeeze down around him, and he slapped his ass without thinking with his free hand. “Fuck, Stiles faster. Squeeze harder. I’ll give you your last load of the, fuck, day.”

Stiles obeyed, and in just a few bounces more, John freed his fingers from Stiles’ mouth and grabbed Stiles waist with both hands, slamming him down hard into his lap, coming into his son, John laid back, his eyes closed and panting, as he tried to regain his strength.

“Daddy, what about me?” Stiles whimpered after a few minutes from his perch.

John opened his eyes, his breath mostly back, and looked down to see Stiles’ weeping little dick between them, obviously near, but not pushed over the edge yet.

“You know the rules, Stiles,” John said, looking up to see Stiles’ expression: excitement, frustration, and slight annoyance. John felt a strange sense of satisfaction. “Bitches come when getting fucked. And I’m guessing you came plenty today.” 

Stiles whimpered again, and John flicked his nail against the head of Stiles’ dick. He knew it had to hurt, that was kind of the point: it would hurt enough to make the threat of orgasm recede, however slightly; he’d learned this trick from Peter, actually. Even so, John enjoyed the strange look of  of increased arousal with the pain, and felt his now softening dick twitch slightly when Stiles involuntarily squeezed down. He did it again and Stiles didn’t bother to hold in his pained annoyance as his dick visibly softened.  
“Dad!” Stiles grumbled, no sound of the sex kitten left in his voice.

“Time for bed, sport,” John said in reply, and nudged Stiles up and off his dick. 

Grumbling, Stiles still went back down between John’s knees, gently cleaning their combined juices’ from his dad’s dick with his mouth.  
John looked fondly down at him, and petted his head similarly to how their evening had begun. “If you’re good and wake me properly in the morning, I might let you come tomorrow,” he said affectionately, and Stiles moaned.

John sighed again, leaning back to wait for his son to finish.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Tumblr.


End file.
